Nothing But The Song
by Cati Jones
Summary: Dawn convinces Buffy to go to a masquerade party. Buffy decides that this was a very bad idea. But when she gets caught in the music, her dance will end with something she's only ever dreamed of. Rated for very mild language and kissing. Please read. Very Spuffy!


**A/N: This is my very first fan fiction, so try not to be too harsh. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome! Oh, and obviously, all the characters and stuff belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy. I don't own anything. :)**

**Nothing But The Song**

She decided that the crystal chandelier was stupid.

It hung from the ceiling so low that she almost bumped her head on it every time she went near. It spread out like a golden spider, dimming lights glowing at the tip of every leg. Although, she had to admit, as ugly as the thing was, it really added to the atmosphere of the masquerade party.

Going had been Dawn's idea of course. Her younger sister seemed to think that she spent too much time brooding lately.

Puh-lease! she had responded. She wasn't Angel.

But still, Dawn had insisted. And Buffy had given in, if only to prove to Dawn that she was alright, that she had moved on. She'd even invited her boyfriend Richard along, wanting to make this as fun of an evening for herself as she could.

Of course, Buffy regretted that choice now as she bitterly watched Richard fondling another woman.

She gritted her teeth as the musicians struck up another song. She wanted nothing more than to get out of here, to leave this place that, instead of being fun, only caused her more pain. She also wanted to kick Richard in his stupid backside, but she controlled that urge with difficulty. The door was only a few steps away; all she had to do was stroll out of here. But she had told Dawn that she would give this party a shot, and there was something in this new tune that called to her, inexplicably promising to make her forget all her troubles. She shrugged to herself and stepped upon the dance floor, narrowly avoiding receiving a concussion from the offensive chandelier.

As the music sped up, so did she, twirling and spinning in time to the beat. She sensed others joining her, but she didn't stop to look. The music rushed through her, taking her to a place where none of it mattered. Pain, loss, misery, Richard. Nothing existed but her and the song.

The man stood alone in the corner, sipping slowly on a glass of wine. At first, he hadn't known why he had come here. He usually stayed far away from these kinds of gigs. He hated dances in general; they tended to end badly for him. Parties like this, where people dress up in costumes that those of the Victorian era wouldn't be caught dead in (and he should know), they were even worse.

So why _had_ he felt so drawn to this place on this night?

Now he knew.

Because there she was.

His Slayer.

His Buffy.

She was in the center of it all, dancing like there would be no tomorrow. Her long locks of hair fanned out around her head, surrounding her face in an effulgent golden halo. Her dress swirled around her legs, and Spike smiled. She was one of the only ones here who'd gotten the clothes right.

God, she was even more beautiful than he remembered. Her scent intoxicated him- vanilla and cream and white roses. He knew he should go, leave her to whatever life she had built here, just as he had for the past few years, but he didn't have it in him to tear himself away. She was his addiction, and he was a fool for ever thinking he could move on from her.

She was a whirling dervish, a lightning storm, a spiraling tornado. She spun for what seemed like forever, her feet moving in intricate patterns she had no idea she knew. She wondered briefly if the music was some sort of spell, but then she pushed the thought away. It didn't matter. She never wanted to lose this euphoria, never wanted to go back to her suffering. Because she did suffer day by day, even if she tried not to show it. There were some things she'd never be able to move on from.

She continued to move as the song went on, dancing with so many strangers that their faces all blurred, and she could no longer tell when she switched partners.

Abruptly, the music stopped, and everyone froze.

Buffy found herself in the arms of someone very familiar.

For a moment, she thought that she was hallucinating. She never had been good at holding her liquor. This was far too much like that time he had stopped her from dancing 'til she burned. It couldn't be real, it just couldn't be. She was dreaming of the past again.

But as she looked into the soulful blue depths of his eyes, at the gentle smirk playing at his lips, she let hope slowly fill her. As she breathed in his smoky scent, she allowed herself to whisper his name, just once.

"Spike?"

As she traced the silver white scar cleaving his left eyebrow, she realized that it couldn't be anyone but him.

The kiss they shared was better than anything either of them had ever experienced before. This was love. Pure, undiluted love.

In that instant, Spike knew that every single word she'd said to him in the Hellmouth was true. Joy suffused his entire being, though at the same time he was mentally kicking himself for ever believing otherwise. He pulled back and brushed away a tear tracing its way down her cheek, ignoring the one falling from his own.

It was her.

His Slayer.

His Buffy.

"Hello Goldilocks."

**A/N: Once again, reviews are welcome! And look out for more Spuffy stuff by me. I can't seem to stay away from it. :)**


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